"What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. "Friday!" echoed Mrs. She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. Wary they might be. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid.
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